


an awkward turtle-duck with the heart of a dragon

by Anonymous_Wraith



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Everyone Loves Natsume Takashi, Fire Lord Zuko, Gen, Matoba Face-palming Internally, Matoba just wants power, More tags to be added, Natsume Takashi's Terrible Childhood, On Haitus, Spirit Zuko, The Blue Spirit - Freeform, Yokai Zuko, Zuko And Natsume Bonding, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko's Terrible Childhood, but he's also just neutral not evil, guys seriously, no regrets, shhhhhh I'm the author I get the power
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-07 11:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21457330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Wraith/pseuds/Anonymous_Wraith
Summary: Zuko be like rawr and swoosh, Matoba tries to capture him because he's a crazy little exorcist, and Natsume lives on like what is the world.
Relationships: Natori Shuuichi & Natsume Takashi, Zuko & Natsume
Comments: 46
Kudos: 165





	1. the forest is lovely tonight, isn't it?

A teenage boy leaped across the treetops like a lemur-monkey in flight. He was made up of hard lines and soft edges, his body flowing liquidly between jumps, his hands elegant but firm as he steadied himself against frail tree branches. Down the left side of his face was a scar, deep and scorching and rippling. His eyes were molten and far too old, set narrow and sharp above his delicate cheekbones.

His name was Zuko, and once, long ago, he was lord to a nation of ash and destruction. Now, he was just Zuko. A spirit, a wanderer. Alone and without a home or a purpose.

Halting temporarily in the nook of a magnolia tree, he extracted a mask of deepening blue from the folds of his robes. It was shaped into the resemblance of a spirit forgotten to the soothings of time. He gently put the mask to his face, and it held on despite the lack of straps to tie it. It was part of him, one of the only things that kept him in the trappings of this world.

The stars winked at him from above, and he allowed himself a small, sad smile in return. It was hidden, but the stars knew it was there. They knew him all too well.

Taking an even, useless breath, he alighted from his perch with barely a rustle.

(:):(:):(:):(:):(:)

Natsume was different from other kids; an outcast, a liar, a creep. Maybe if he had been normal, then he would've had more friends, or a blood family who love him, or a childhood that was happy and carefree-- but if he was normal, then he wouldn't be the same person that he was in those days. He wouldn't be in the place he was in, he wouldn't have the connections and friendships that he had, and he certainly wouldn't have such kind and loving people taking care of him as the Fujiwaras, or be able to fix the hurt his grandmother had caused. He didn't regret his ability to see yokai, not in the slightest. 

Not even when he was being chased by a thirty foot bear-looking beast with horns twice the size of a ram’s. Such was his life.

The bear-like yokai was getting closer, so close that Natsume could feel its breath on the nape of his neck, so close that he could imagine himself being killed by a thirty foot, slobbering, yokai monster. After everything he's been through, it comes to this? Where was Nyanko Sensei when he needed him?

Who needed that cat, anyway. Natsume could take care of himself.

Hardening his resolve, Natsume spun around to face the charging spirit, just in time to see… something… come out of the trees and ninja-kick the yokai in its silky, snarling snout. It fell hard and it fell fast, yelping in surprise as its attacker promptly tugged its ear, growling softly into it. The bear yokai whined, scrambling out of ear-tugging reach and high-tailing it out of there.

Natsume’s rescuer didn't wait for a thank you, disappearing before he saw more than the blue flash of a mask and the red flutter of robes.

The pretty-faced boy suppressed a shudder as a wave of power washed over him, crackling through the air as carelessly as wildfire, silently as smoke.

What. Was that.

(:):(:):(:):(:):(:)

Matoba Seiji leaned back in his chair, scratching his signature into the blank space on the parchment. Paperwork. A necessary evil. 

Someone rapped on the wood beside the paper sliding door. “Sir? News has come from your spies near Yatsuhara.”

The ones near Natsume’s village, hmm?

Matoba flicked his wrist, eyes never straying from the document in front of him. His shiki ambled from his side to open the sliding door, quiet as the dead. 

Hesitant footsteps approached his desk, stopping a respectful distance away. There was a pause where Matoba assumed they bowed, then the person continued, “Agents Honaka and Jin sensed a spiritual disturbance in the forest. Whatever caused it had to have been something powerful, but complacent enough not to cause chaos in the area. They have heard reports from several of their yokai saying that it is a spirit in a teenage form, with fire following his movements as a dog would its master.”

“Do they know its temperament?”

“Not as of yet, sir.”

“Then you are dismissed. Inform me of any developments.”

There was silence. The patter of feet, and the _swish_ of the door sliding back into place, then nothing.

__

__

Matoba rolled the parchment, setting it aside. His lips curled in a sardonic grin. 

The paperwork could wait. 


	2. whispers carry in the wind

“Well. So that happened.”

As he walked back to the Fujiwaras’ house, Natsume debated whether or not he should tell Nyanko-sensei about his experience. Pros: he might find out what kind of yokai the figure was, if it was malevolent, and if it was likely to hang around. Cons: Nyanko-sensei would berate him for not being able to defend himself, then demand some sort of food or sake. Natsume thought that the pros and cons were fairly evenly matched. 

In the end, Natsume decided to tell him. After all, he was well practiced at ignoring the fortune cat. 

He found Nyanko-sensei in his room, staring intently at a loose piece of string. Nyanko-sensei wiggled his tail slightly, then jumped, missing the string entirely and tumbling head over heels into the wall.

“Nyanko-sensei!” Natsume spluttered, grabbing the yokai from under his stomach and tugging him to his chest. 

Nyanko-sensei riggled in his grip, making distressed grunts. “Natsume!” He mewled. “Let go! Off! Put me down!”

Natsume complied, amused. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Nyanko-sensei smoothed his ruffled fur with his tongue haughtily. “If this ‘talk’ doesn’t involve Touko-san’s shrimp rice, than this cat’s not listening.”

Natsume sighed. “I don’t know about shrimp rice--” So much for ‘ignoring the fortune cat’.

“Manju buns?” Nyanko-sensei asked hopefully.

“Alright, alright,” Natsume agreed. “But first…” He relayed what had happened in the forest, leaving out no details. “... and then I walked home.”

“Describe the yokai again.” Nyanko-sensei was unusually serious.

Natsume thought back to the figure. “He had a blue mask and red robes, and he was elegant on his feet. Humanoid, definitely. I didn’t get a very good look at him.”

Nyanko-sensei sat thoughtfully for a moment, somehow managing to look solemn in his cute fortune cat form. “I feel like I’ve heard of someone like that before…”

Natsume perked up, leaning forward in anticipation.

Nyanko-sensei’s expression changed instantaneously, his eyes brightening and widening comically as he jumped to his paws. “Ah, I’m sure it’s nothing. To manju!”

At least Nyanko-sensei had his priorities straight.

(:):(:):(:):(:):(:)

Several days later, Natsume, Nyanko-sensei, and Natori were going to ‘Give Me A Reason’, a romance movie starring-- you guessed it-- Natori Shuuichi.

Nyanko-sensei was in his human form, the one that looked like Reiko. How yokai kept mistaking Natsume for his grandmother, he hadn’t a clue.

They entered the movie theater. Natsume bought a small popcorn bag and water for himself, as well as a large popcorn bag for Nyanko-sensei. Natori got a small pouch of various sweets, a medium sized bag of popcorn, and a cup of something fizzy and cherry flavoured. They were ready to watch the movie.

They had seats in the third row from the back, on the left hand side. A group of girls in front of them recognized Natori instantly, gasping and shooting looks his way. Naturally, Natori turned on his ‘charm mode’. Nyanko-sensei swore to Natsume up and down that he heard instrumental music and flowers accompany Natori’s ‘charm mode’. Natsume, of course, didn’t see or hear anything, because he wasn’t insane.

Whatever it was, it certainly made the girls giggle when they turned back to the movie, whispering to each other under their breath. Meanwhile, Natori settled back, content.

Then instantly straightened up, stiff as a board, eyes fixed slightly away from where the movie was being projected. 

Natsume and Nyanko-sensei were immediately alert, following his gaze with theirs.

There, in the second row from the front, was the yokai that had saved Natsume in the woods. Natsume could only see the back of his head, but he could sense the figure’s aura, throbbing softly behind his eyes.

“That’s him?” Nyanko-sensei asked gently, reverently.

“Yeah. That’s him,” Natsume said.

“Who?” Natori inquired with that ‘what didn’t you tell me, Natsume’ look in his eyes. 

As Natsume explained his encounter, he tried to get a better look at the powerful yokai. He had hair down to his elbows that was an earthy brown colour, nearly black. His crimson silk robes were intricately woven with golden thread, his sapphire blue mask peaking hesitantly over his hair.

“If you want a closer look, I could capture it for you,” Natori offered slyly. 

Surprisingly, Nyanko-sensei spoke before Natsume could, “Don’t you dare,” She was quiet, (deadly). “I remember where I’ve heard of him, now. He’s one of the eldest yokai I’ve ever heard about, dating back at least twice as far as any other yokai I know. All that anyone knows about him is that he’s known as the Roaming Dragon, he wanders Japan, and he hangs around humans, even though they can’t interact with him. He’s powerful-- more powerful than me, as far as I’m aware. Every yokai I’ve talked to that have seen him say that he is always alone, secretive, never lets any other yokai within ten yards of him before he disappears. It is unanimously agreed that he is both dangerous and sacred-- he is not to be harmed.”

Natsume had rarely seen Nyanko-sensei so adamantly protective over a yokai-- especially one that she’d never met. “What’s so sacred about him?”

She rolled her eyes. “Were you even _listening_? This is one of the oldest yokai, which means that he has stories and miseries written in his bones, secrets forgotten to the world seeped in his flesh, wonders that no one will ever see again etched into his memories. A little, powerless yokai could not have lasted as long as he has. You do not simply capture or kill a being such as him.”

Natori had followed the conversation with intense interest, now he butted in. “How hasn’t an exorcist gotten to him yet?”

Nyanko-sensei slumped in her seat, picking at a fingernail. “He’s good at disappearing, I’ve heard.” 

They all gave each other looks, then turned as one to the place where they had spotted the spirit. Sure enough, he was gone.

Because of course he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, I bite. I mean-- I _don't_ bite. Shoot.


	3. waiting for the sky to fall

Zuko ran fluidly from the theater, heatless fire carrying him away quicker than a pygmy-puma’s heartbeat. 

Had those humans _seen_ him?

If there had only been one of them, it wouldn’t have bothered him, but there had been _two_. Two humans, who were also hanging around a fairly potent yokai. The most surprising part about it was that Zuko couldn’t sense any bindings connecting the yokai to either of them. What kind of yokai hung around humans willingly? (Besides him, that is…)

Once he reached the forest, he slowed to a lazy stride. No point in broadcasting his presence. 

A few yards in, he began to hear voices. 

“--Natsume-dono should be warned,” one voice, high-pitched and nasally, said. 

Natsume of the Book of Friends? Zuko didn’t realize that he’d gotten to this part of Japan. What did Natsume Takashi need to be warned about?

Suppressing his aura, Zuko padded closer, peering around a tree to spot a gathering of yokai. They all were in the process of drinking sake. Zuko disapproved. 

“Yes, he should be,” said an elephantine yokai that resembled a bull. “Whenever that Matoba Clan is hanging around, you know that they mean trouble.”

The Matoba Clan were exorcists, if Zuko remembered correctly. One of the more powerful assemblages of them. If they were in the area, then he would stay well enough away.

“But if we tell him,” a kappa protests. “Then Natsume will do something reckless and probably hurt himself.”

“Which is the only reason we’re all alive and not enslaved,” grumbled a bull-headed yokai.

“So?” hissed a slender, human-shaped yokai, her cheeks a rosy shade of pink. “Natsume has already done enough for us. We should deal with this ourselves.” She gestured to the large yokai resembling a bull. “Misuzu alone could fight those weaklings off, and one-handed, at that.”

“You mean one-hoofed?” corrected a big-headed yokai with distant eyes and a split mustache. 

She waved away his comment with an elegant hand. “Whatever, Mustache. The point is, let’s scare away the _nice little_ exorcists and get on with our lives, letting Natsume continue with his. I’m sure he’d appreciate a break.”

“That’s not how Natsume works, Hinue,” Misuzu said, the bells adorning him jingling softly. 

A pause. “I know.”

Zuko chose that moment to slink away, curiosity quenched. 

(:):(:):(:):(:):(:)

He slipped silently through the tree branches, not sure what he was going to do. Should he change locations? Sounded like a good idea, about now. Where to next, then? Keep going west until he found somewhere less hostile, or…?

There was the sound of snapping wood beneath and slightly behind him, and Zuko paused in his leaping to look down. There was nothing there, which made him _deeply suspicious_. He was sure he’d heard something-- he’d always had good hearing, and his hearing had only gotten better since he’d became a spirit. The question was, what had made the noise?

A rustle, this time right below him. 

He pushed off quickly from his perch, and was airborne for a brief second before _something_ flashed by where he used to be. Evidently, _something_ was after him. He decided it was time to make himself scarce. 

Zuko collected his chi sufficiently for what he was about to do, moving from place to place as he did so. That _something_ followed him. He caught a glimpse of white out of the corner of his eye, closing in on both sides. 

So, there were_ two somethings_, then. 

He directed his chi through his back, and out sprouted a pair of translucent red wings from between his shoulder blades. He rose in the air within only a couple of beats, leisurely flapping his wings as the forest grew blurry beneath him.

He really _should_ move locations. Evidently, even staying anywhere for a week is a week too long. He’d thought-- maybe, just maybe, he could settle somewhere for a while, let Agni cycle above him as he used to do. But, just like in life, he was chased, or chasing. He could not stop running, no matter where he went. Sometimes, he wondered if he should just turn into a dragon, like his brethren, and have done with it. Make a den someplace, burn anyone who dared come close. Yet, he was rather _attached_ to his human form-- it reminded him of home.

He snorted. Home. Even in life, he had only briefly been able to call somewhere ‘home’. The Fire Nation had been home, before he was banished. The _Wani_ had been home, before it had been destroyed. Ba Sing Se had been home, before he’d had to run again.

The Gaang had been home. 

He shook himself out of his thoughts. Looking behind and below him, he saw two white dots keeping pace with him. 

Turns out, it wouldn’t be as easy to shake them as he’d expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Encouragement / constructive criticism would be appreciated.


	4. dark meets dark

Matoba followed leisurely behind his shiki, striding with no great hurry. His shiki’s orders were to either capture the powerful yokai, or to herd it towards him. There was no need to rush for the sake of rushing.

He saw the yokai fly above the trees, a pair of flickering crimson wings cutting through the air in supple beats. For a moment, Matoba’s lips twitched up, smirking contently. He hadn’t expected _that_. 

Oh wait, he had.

Two black dots-- yokai in the shape of crows-- rose to meet the half-dragon, herding it to the right. Instead of allowing itself to be herded, however, it merely backtracked, flying over his shiki. Matoba recalled his shiki, realizing where the yokai was headed.

The answer was: straight towards him. Matoba had no idea what that yokai was thinking, but he enjoyed the unexpectedness of it all, the thrill of the hunt sparking in his veins. 

He shouldered his bow, gripping it lazily in one hand while knocking an arrow with the other. He would only shoot the yokai if it was absolutely necessary, of course; or if he had no further use for it.

To his complete surprise, the yokai landed in front of him, wings enfolding _into_ its body until there was no trace that they’d been there at all. “Why?” it said, its voice the colour of autumn leaves.

Matoba found it amusing that this yokai chose to talk to him. It must be prideful to think that it could speak to a powerful exorcist without worry-- and prideful to think that said exorcist would talk back. 

He decided to converse with the creature. After all, no harm could come of it. “Why what?”

It shifted, the moonlight gleaming sharply on its worn, sapphire mask. “Let me rephrase: What do you want?”

He smiled a knife-edged smile. “What do I want? I thought that was obvious.”

Sighing, it crossed its arms, seeming oddly subdued. “Humour me.”

“I want you, of course,” Matoba allowed, adjusting his grip on his bow casually. “Come quietly, and I won’t have to injure you. I don’t want to damage the goods, after all.”

“And once you’d captured me, what then? What would you do? What’s the point?” it asked. 

There was a rustle from behind the yokai, and Matoba’s shiki burst from the bushes. The yokai didn’t seem concerned in the least.

Matoba laughed dryly. “It won’t matter to you, yokai, what I will do at that point. The only thing you need to do is follow my orders, else your remaining life will be short and miserable.”

It ignored the threat, shaking its head. “I used to be just like you, you know,” it confided. “Searching for power and recognition, leaving destruction in my wake.” It swept a hand to his shiki. “Look at them! They’ve been under your service for so long that they hardly remember a time when it wasn’t so. And maybe you don’t care about them-- I know that _I_ didn’t care about the people I’d hurt-- but that’s no way to treat someone. Even someone you hate! Find some honour, would you?” It had slowly been raising its voice, its arms gesticulating smoothly as it spoke. 

How interesting. “Honour, hmm?” Matoba fingered the string to his bow thoughtfully, observing the yokai with a keen gaze. “It’s been awhile since anyone has spoken about ‘honour’. I don’t think you know what you ask for, yokai.” He began to gesture to his shiki, to capture the yokai--

It reached its hand up slowly and took off its mask. Underneath was the face of a teenager, with eyes the colour of golden flame. A burn scar rested lovingly on its left cheek. 

Matoba was fascinated. He hadn’t known it was possible for yokai to scar.

“I know more than anyone,” it insisted, a grief passing quietly behind its eyes. “I gave up everything for honour. I gave up my childhood; I gave up my family; and, eventually, I gave up my life.”

“Your life?” Cause _dammit_\-- Matoba was curious. Sue him.

“Yes, my life. I wasn’t always a spirit.”

Unfortunately, the yokai couldn’t speak further, because Natsume charged into the scene with his fortune cat and Natori on his heels. “Matoba! Get away from him!”

The spirit gave a resigned sort of sigh. Matoba knew exactly how it felt. “Natsume! Lovely to see you again, but I’m a bit too busy at the moment to talk. Another time, maybe?”

Natori butted in. “I don’t know if you had noticed, Matoba, but that yokai in front of you is highly ancient and powerful. I advise you to _back off_.”

“That seemed like a threat, Natori,” he said conversationally. “How rude. Especially since I haven’t captured this yokai yet, and _it_ was the one who started talking to _me_, not the other way around.”

“Likely story.”

“It’s true,” the spirit admitted, pressing the mask back onto its face. Matoba felt a twinge of disappointment. “And my _name_ is Zuko, not ‘yokai’.”

The yokai that Natsume calls ‘Nyanko-sensei’ spoke up. “It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Zuko. The name’s Madara.”

‘Zuko’ bowed deeply. “Ah, the companion of Reiko. It’s an honour to meet you as well.”

“I’m the companion of Takashi, now.” The cat groomed a paw. “Lowly, unimportant Takashi.”

“Hey!”

It rolled its eyes. “It’s _true_,” it whined. “Reiko was so strong. You’re pathetic, compared to her.”

Natori diffused the situation before it began, waving away their comments. “Natsume! Nyanko-sensei! Remember the matter at hand?”

They turned to Matoba in unison. “Right,” they chorused.

All this while, Matoba had been thinking. Why not catch two birds with one stone? He turned to the yokai named Zuko. “I’ve decided not to try and capture you, but I would love the opportunity to pick your mind some more. Why don’t we take this to a place more secluded, then talk.”

Zuko was silent for a moment, probably wondering if there was some sort of trick. Then it nodded. “Okay.”

Nyanko-sensei instantly interjected. “Wait a moment! Matoba’s an exorcist; it’s his job to capture or exterminate yokai. You can’t trust him!”

The spirit looked down at the other yokai. “Everyone deserves to be given a chance. He hasn’t hurt me yet-- so I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“What if he’s lying?”

It shrugged. “I’m good at getting out of difficult situations.”

There was a silence. Natori had an indifferent look on his face, Nyanko-sensei was eerily serious, and Natsume seemed like he was struggling with something. Matoba was interested to see where this would go.

...

“We’re coming with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic suggestion: a home away from home (by) H_Faith_Marr
> 
> Comments? Suggestions? Ideas?


	5. it looks ugly, but it's clean

In the end, Natsume was the only extra person allowed to come, because Matoba ‘didn’t trust’ Natori, and ‘didn’t want an unpredictable yokai in his space, thank-you-very-much’. Natsume still decided to come. He didn’t want Zuko to go into enemy territory alone. 

Matoba led them to a small villa, only a ten minute walk away. He chatted all the while, in his usual silvertongued way, not seeming to notice that the other two weren’t much for talking. 

They took off their shoes and settled in a cozy room with a table and cushions around it. 

“So,” Zuko began awkwardly. “What did you want to ask me?”

Matoba is unaffected by the awkwardness. _How does he do that? _Natsume wonders. He’ll never know.

“How did you die?”

For a moment, Zuko is silent, sorrow flickering across his features. “That’s a long story, and needs a lot of elaboration.”

“We have time.”

Despite himself, Natsume was rather interested. This spirit was positively ancient-- what kind of world did he live in, before he died?

“Alright,” Zuko said. “Alright. The only question is where to start.” He glanced sideways at Natsume. “Let’s see… it would be best to start with a bit of history. When I was alive, there were four nations. Fire, water, earth, and air. There were really only three, because my grandfather killed all of the Air Nomads, before I was even born. For the first nine years of my life, I was fourth in line for the Fire Nation throne. Then my grandfather died, and my uncle wasn’t the one who got the throne. 

“It was my father.

“Suddenly, I was the next heir. Suddenly, I had more expectations to live up to. Suddenly, I just wasn’t enough. This came to a head when I was thirteen, when I went into a war meeting that I wasn’t supposed to. One of the generals wanted to sacrifice a troop of new recruits in order to gain victory. I thought that was wrong, so I spoke up. Yelled in my meeting with my father present. I had disgraced myself, and not only that, but I dishonoured my father. 

“The only thing that could be done was an Agni Kai-- a duel of fire. I agreed, thinking that I was going to be facing the general, but when I turned around, it was my father that I was facing. I knelt on the ground and begged him not to make me fight him. _I am your loyal son_, I told him. Instead, he banished me for weakness and dishonour, permanently etching his displeasure into my face.” He reached up to brush the scar, only to meet the smooth ridges of the mask. “The only way I could return home was if I found the Avatar.”

“Is the Avatar the one who killed you?” Matoba asked, oddly hushed.

“No.” Zuko shifted. “That was later on, after I had joined the Avatar in his quest to take my father from the throne. We had succeeded, of course. I was Fire Lord, and everything seemed to be settling down. How foolish I was to believe that.” He took a short breath. “My generals-- my father’s generals, really. They turned on me. They didn’t like that I had stopped the war between nations--”

“Wait-- there was a war?” Natsume clarified.

“What part of ‘my grandfather killed an entire nation’ did you not understand?”

“Fair enough. Continue,” insisted Matoba. Was that-- did Matoba look... _intrigued_?

“Anyway, they didn’t like how I ran things, and they liked it when they gained profit from the war. So, they started to try and kill me.” Zuko shrugged, leaning on the palm of his hand. “Once assassination failed, they became more elaborate, drawing me away from the palace with attacks on citizens, setting off security alarms…

“Then they went after the dragons.”

(:):(:):(:):(:):(:)

_Zuko looked down at the reports, schooling his features so that his friends wouldn’t see how stressed he was. At first, the assassins had only come after him. Then, they went after his friends and random citizens. He didn’t know who had sent them-- he didn’t know _anything_. But that was fine. He’d never known anything before, and knowing things wouldn’t just start happening now that he was Fire Lord. Two years on the throne, and it was already crumbling around him. He had diplomatic meetings he had to worry about, and at the same time figure out how to keep the economy from collapsing. Soldiers (without work) had turned to banditry-- in all of the Nations. He had work to do, and he was so _tired_, and he just needed everyone to _calm down for a moment I’m trying to think!__

_He took a calming breath. And another. _

_“Zuko,” Katara motherhenned, eyebrows furrowing in concern. “You need to take a break. We can deal with your duties for a while. You’re not helping anyone by not taking care of yourself.”_

_“I can’t just drop my duties, Katara--”_

_“She’s right,” Aang said, of all people. He didn’t take a rest after he found out his _entire Nation_ was wiped off the face of the earth. Why’d he think that Zuko would stop now?_

_Zuko growled, re-reading the reports, fiddling with his hands, looking _anywhere_ but at them. “I need to fix this. I can’t just leave this to twiddle my thumbs and pretend that the world isn’t falling apart. The Avatar cycle is _broken_, Aang, and no amount of rest is going to change that. Can you blame me for wanting to do all I can to stop the coming disaster? Without the Avatar, the balance that is held so precariously will reach its tipping point. We need to be ready when that happens.”_

_Suddenly, a messenger burst through the door, panting and half-wild. He ran in, robes flaring dramatically, and handed Zuko a ribbon-wrapped message scroll. Then, he skirted out of the room, the only evidence of his coming the off-yellow parchment in the Fire Lord’s hands. _

_He unrolled it, fingers shaking as they broke the seal on the ribbon, heart pounding as he read the words scratched onto the parchment’s surface. _

_He sighed. Then gasped. Then stood._

_“What is it?” Katara asked-- demanded._

_“The dragons. I have to go,” was all he explained before darting out the door like a vulture-pigeon diving on a day-dead marmot-mouse. _

_Katara cursed and ran after him, the others close behind. Zuko was far ahead, turning a corner with lightning speed-- pun unintended. _

_By the time they got to the docks, it was too late. He had acquired a ship and was off-- sailing at full speed towards who-knows-where. _

_Another thing-- when Katara tried to get a boat to go after him, no one would give her one. _

_Stupid royal-supporters. _

_Meanwhile, Zuko was freaking out. His generals, the people he was supposed to trust, were heading off to kill the last dragons in existence. You know-- the dragons that had _taught humans how to firebend_?_

_He got to the island, hopping off as quickly as he could, dashing to where he knew the dragons were. _

_He just hoped that he wasn’t too late._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give me a break, it's Christmas break. This chapter was freaking hard to write and wasn't what I wanted it to turn out to be, but I posted it anyway. The title has nothing to do with the chapter, the chapter itself is in shambles, and I wanted to get to the part where Zuko died but... hmph. Sorry guys.


	6. water beneath sand

“I… I made it in time, but it was close. Very close.” Zuko’s fists were clenched in his lap, eyes distant as he remembered the occurrence. “I stopped them from killing the dragons, and tried to end it without a fight… but it was futile. We fought. It was a hard battle-- a nigh impossible one. I was fatally wounded, but I kept fighting, because if I didn’t, then the dragons would be dead. I shouldn’t have worried, really-- the dragons could take care of themselves-- and all I ended up doing was killing my generals and crippling the Fire Nation. 

“As I mentioned, I was injured. I didn’t have any medics with me, so I was left to bleed out on the forest floor. That’s when the dragons arrived. They were breathtakingly beautiful. My last thoughts were thankful-- that I was so honoured to die with dragons above me, to die protecting them from my own subordinates. 

“But that wasn’t the end of it. I awoke in the Spirit World--” At this, Matoba perked up, but Zuko raised a hand. “It doesn’t exist anymore, but I’ll get to that.” He breathed in sharply. “Anyway, it appeared that the dragons found me worthy of dragonhood, calling me brother and branding my future with fire and immortality. 

“I got to watch as the world I knew deteriorated-- my loved ones withering away and dying. Aang-- the Avatar-- joined me in the Spirit World, but he too soon faded away to nothing. The sacredness of the Avatar is broken because of what my ancestors had done, and the balance lost to the windings of time. The walls between our worlds became thin, then non-existent, as the spiritual realm was brought into chaos.” At this, he paused, closing his eyes, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “All that we had fought for, gone to waste. No one even remembers the Time of the Avatar anymore, except for me.” He felt an ancient despair rise from within him. It was the only thing that had kept him company, these long millenia. “Everyone wears away with time, and I am left alone once more. 

“Why me? Was it the dragons’ doing? Fate? Justice for my crimes on this earth? Justice for the crimes of my ancestors? I may never know.” He straightened in his seat, looking from one human to the other. “The only thing that keeps me going is a proverb that my uncle once told me. It says, ‘_Though the desert looks dry, there’s living water beneath the sands._’ Despite the desolation, I still have hope for this world. We don’t need an Avatar to achieve balance, as long as the determination and ingenuity of the human race continues to flow beneath the surface of death and deceit. 

“So. That’s how I died,” Zuko ended awkwardly, after a pause.

“Interesting,” Matoba said with a sly smile. “Very interesting indeed.”

“What have you been doing all this time?” Natsume asked. 

Zuko shrugs. “I’ve always been partial to the theatre, so I attend plays and movies. I’m interested in humans, so I watch people. I’m always travelling, never staying anywhere long.” He tucks his chin to his chest. “_Can’t get too attached,_” he muttered, hand creeping up to his neck in a shamed gesture. “I can’t do much, in this form. Besides-- I don’t have any influence anymore. Even if I _could_ do anything, it wouldn’t help.”

“Have you _heard_ the way the other yokai talk about you?” the anime protagonist gasped. “You’re revered! You’re the oldest yo-- _spirit_ that has ever walked the face of this planet! I’m sure that if you decided to do something, then the yokai would have your back.”

Matoba nodded. “Natsume is as clever as always. I personally haven’t heard about what the yokai say about you, but I can imagine. Even if they didn’t, then _I’d_ be more than willing to support you in your ventures…”

Natsume blinked at the antagonist. What was he up to? “I am also here, if you need me.”

“I… thank you.” Zuko fiddled with his fingers, head bowed low. His voice was quiet. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Be sure that you do,” Matoba said.

Natsume merely nodded, standing from his position on the floor. “Well, this was fun, but I need to get home before the Fujiwara’s get worried.” He bowed. “Thanks for the story, Zuko-san. Thanks for not being hostile, Matoba-san. Farewell.”

Zuko stood. “I must also be on my way. Hopefully we will cross paths again. If not, then have a happy life.” 

“You as well, Zuko. Farewell.”

Matoba sat, alone. A small smile tugged at his lips. 

Bullseye.

(:):(:):(:):(:):(:)

Madara paced Natsume’s room, worried out of his mind. He had already eaten all of his companion’s snacks. He had shed all over their bed. He had tried (and failed) to find Touko-san’s sake. There was nothing else to distract him from his companion’s absence. He had been gone for a while now. Too long, in Madara’s mind. He was tempted to shift into his True Form™ and find him, but he reigned himself in. Natsume would be home soon. Natsume would be fine.

And no he did _not_ care for the brat! He just wanted food, that’s all. If Natsume died, then he’d get the Book of Friends. So _really_, it was fine if he died! Madara couldn’t care less!

But he paced.

“Touko-san! I’m home!”

Madara bounded down the steps.

Natsume was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I took so long to update! I was working on another story, and then life happened and then oops it's been months... haha. Sorry. Hope you liked the chapter?


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